Let Yourself Be Carried
by Ista
Summary: Rey is a scavenger. Rey is a survivor. Rey works alone. Rey is training to be a Jedi, thank you very much. And that means no hand-holding, no late-night moonlit walks, and no relying on anyone else for help! Some nice fluff and BAMF/exhausted Rey with comforting Finn and Poe.
1. Since My Heart Is Golden

**Let Yourself Be Carried**

 **Summary:** Rey is a scavenger. Rey is a survivor. Rey works alone. Rey is training to be a Jedi, thank you very much. And that means no hand-holding, no late-night moonlit walks, and no relying on anyone else for help! Some nice fluff and BAMF/ exhausted Rey with comforting Finn and Poe.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Star Wars…_ Darn.

 **Chapter 1: Since My Heart Is Golden**

The lesson from Master Luke today is:

LET YOURSELF BE CARRIED

And Rey is having none of it.

Rey is a scavenger. Rey is a survivor. Rey works alone. Rey is training to be a Jedi, thank you very much. And that means no hand-holding, no late-night moonlit walks, and no relying on anyone else for help!

Master Luke is her mentor. That's different. Rey looks up to Skywalker like she did to General Solo, as a father figure. She accepts his criticism and wisdom equally. But that's where Rey draws the line.

The day's lesson is posted on the door to her quarters. She receives one every evening for the next day. Master Luke believes it helps her focus her evening meditation. Because she certainly has so much time for _that_ , what with all the Jedi exercises (lightsaber drills, strength training, balance activities), Resistance meetings, and flying lessons.

Rey stumbles out of her bunk after only _just_ getting to sleep (tossing and turning has become one of her favorite pastimes) and realizes that she forgot to set an alarm. She knows she is already twenty minutes late to meet Master Luke for her morning training. Rey streaks through her room in a mad dash to gather suitable clothes for day's course. Not even bothering to look at herself in a mirror, she can only imagine she looks like a wampa having a bad hair day.

Whatever.

Rey is halfway out the door when she catches that she has yet to clean her quarters after living at the base on D'Qar for two months. In a fleeting moment, she imagines the rumpled piles of clothes and scattered stacks of flight manuals to be a mirror of her own mental state. On Jakku, she was always a neat and tidy person. On D'Qar, her focus has shifted from survival to education. Like a sponge, she soaks up every tidbit of information from General Organa to Master Skywalker and her new friends.

The door to her quarters swishes shut, and is it just her sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on her, or is something different about today? Something she forgot?

Rey almost punches in the code to her quarters on the keypad in the hope of going back to see what she failed to recall. She ticks off a list of items in her mind. Lightsaber—check. _Wouldn't want to lose that one._ Updates for BB-8 in a satchel she's carrying—check. On top of that, a great holovid for Poe (because he seems to enjoy thrillers) and an ancient compendium of poems for Finn. One poem in particular puzzles her, and she was hoping to discuss it with him sometime… Sometime when she has a minute's rest.

 _Rest. Don't think about how little sleep you got last night._

"Got to be going," Rey says to herself. She likes talking to herself. She used to do it quite a bit when she lived alone on Jakku and finds it comforting, but she gets the feeling that it's not socially accepted here. She did it once within earshot of Finn. She forgets what the topic of conversation was about. Probably what she was going to eat for supper. And Finn gave her an eyebrow raise. Strike that. His eyebrow threatened to disconnect itself from his face. That was the last time Rey spoke to herself in public.

 _Going to be late. Already late. Can't be late._

Rey races through the barracks and dashes outside, her stomach growling in protest, but there's no hope of getting some breakfast now. The air is fresh and instantly wakes her up quicker than a cup of caf. Although the sky is overcast, brief breaks in the clouds allow a sliver of sunlight to pierce through and illuminate what has been a very dreary season on D'Qar. _Maybe it will stop raining today,_ she thinks hopefully. Rey isn't used to so much rain.

Master Luke usually meets her outside the hangar, in front of the landing field. Skywalker has told her it is a good central meeting point to either wander into the surrounding jungle or venture elsewhere for training, but Rey has a sneaking suspicion it's because Master Luke still has an affinity for flying and likes to personally inspect the Resistance fleet. One morning, Rey caught him chatting up Dameron, and although the pilot must have been flattered by the famous Jedi's attention, he kept sending Rey nonverbal signals along the lines of, "Help! Save me!" It was her reaction to these thoughts (a laughing fit) that distracted Luke long enough to take his leave of Poe, and Rey caught the signs of relief on the pilot's face. She knew Poe worked closely with General Organa, and she could empathize with his situation. It was hard enough pleasing _one_ Skywalker in a single day, let alone two.

A cool wind whips through her long hair, tied up in neatly braided loops, as usual. Rey's hand hovers over her eyes, scanning inside the hangar and the rest of the field for signs of the Jedi. But he's nowhere to be found.

There is a sinking feeling in her still-gurgling stomach. _What if Master Luke gave up on me? Perhaps I should go back inside and see if I can find him…_

Just then a cargo ship lands nearby and new Resistance recruits begin filing out, carrying supplies. She's greeted by the ship's captain as she disembarks and offers to help them unload extra ware. Anything to pass the time until she decides whether to go roaming the base for Skywalker. Besides, Rey has been craving any opportunity to feel useful to the Resistance fighters. Although she feels more comfortable working alone, sometimes Rey feels cut off from the rest of them, especially other young people. Rey wants to be part of their missions sometimes, help find intel or rebuild the Republic instead of the hours she spends by herself with Master Luke.

She catches bits and pieces of rumors floating around about the First Order's new plans, what the Resistance hopes to do, but soon Rey tunes the others out and gets used to the steady rhythm of lifting crates and barrels and carrying them inside. Her muscles are taut and flex, satisfying her love of physical labor. Besides, the momentum helps her stay active. Lately, being still has the tendency to put her to sleep during the day. At night, it's another story…

 _Maybe that's why I haven't been meditating as much as I should…_

The last few crates have to be stored in freezers that only go up to Rey's waist. Since she is the smallest of the crew still unloading, and unencumbered by a flight suit, Rey volunteers. She shimmies nearly the length of her body inside the frigid locker and then shoves the tubs of food as far back as they will go. Straining her arms, Rey grunts, and then gets the last crate in position. Unfortunately, she raises her head a bit too soon and bumps it with a _thud_ against the refrigerator's low ceiling.

"Ah!" she cries, cursing her own clumsiness, her vision spinning momentarily. She huddles against the storage locker for a moment then slams it shut in frustration. Rey places a hand on the top of her head where there is now a solid knot, and it throbs steadily.

"Hey—you okay?"

Rey shields her eyes as she looks in the light from outside, although it's still overcast, and finds herself staring into the wide smile and crinkly eyes of Poe Dameron.

Her heart instantly begins fluttering, which makes her head hurt even more. Why, oh _why_ must her heart rate sky rocket every tie she sees Poe? Or Finn, for that matter.

 _Because you fancy them,_ she thinks.

 _No, because_ they _fancy_ me. _Or at least enjoy my company. And that's a new feeling. No one's ever been my friend before._

Still, Rey fleetingly imagines Poe must have "makes droid and human hearts melt" written into his genetics. It has to be in there somewhere.

"Oh…yeah," she mumbles, trying to hide a creeping blush spreading over her face with the back of her hand. "Was just clumsy and bumped my head."

"Ouch!" Poe says, reaching out to inspect the bump. Rey can see the flash of concern in his eyes, and this look frustrates and excites her at the same time. "Do you want me to get a medic?"

"N-no," she says, smiling wanly. "I'm fine." Her head is still throbbing, but the initial sting of the impact is gone. Still, frantic blinking is not fixing the afterimages of blurred objects in her vision, and Rey prays that she isn't mildly concussed.

 _Just my luck for this to happen in front of Poe. He probably thinks I'm a total imbecile._

She hears a few familiar beeps and sees BB-8 sneak out from behind Dameron, running up against her legs excitedly. It reminds her of what she's carrying in her satchel.

"Got your new updates, BB-8!" she says, pulling out the mini disk and giving it to Poe while the droid trills with eagerness.

"Thanks!" Poe says with a grin, echoing the droid's astromech. "My buddy's gonna love the new fixes." He bends down and turns the disk over to BB-8, who snatches it up with one metallic claw, beeps appreciatively at Rey, and scurries off to find a power source.

Rey digs around in her satchel and grabs the holovid. "Thought you'd like this too. It's a new thriller, _The Trauma of the Temptors_."

Dameron snatches the vid and twirls around. Rey grins despite her aching head—she couldn't have asked for a better reaction.

"Rey, this is fantastic! Thank you! Makes me feel awful that I don't have any gifts for you . I mean, I gave the jacket to Finn."

She chuckles at this. "The jacket" has been an inside joke for ages. Finn will never stop raving about how much he loves it, and Rey has suspicions that he never takes it off, except (maybe) when he's in the sonic shower.

"I don't need any presents," she says, waving her hand.

Poe says, "Of course you do! Especially today!"

Rey is officially confused. "What do you mean?"

Dameron's eyes widen, as if he just gave up top-secret Resistance information to the First Order.

Rey realizes that the two of them have been staring at each other for an uncomfortable period of silence, and asks, "What's wrong?" Because Poe Dameron has completely stumped her.

"N-nothing," he backtracks and clears his throat, then changes the subject. "Hey—are you still up for having dinner with me and Finn tonight? His place."

Rey is about to respond with a definite _maybe_ , even though she knows she already accepted a few weeks previously, but then she senses something about to occur—some imminent pain that she must prevent. And even through her sleep-deprived and aching brain, Rey knows better than to watch the scene play out in disaster and wait idly by. The Force is showing her something to do with the droid.

"BB-8!" she cries, ignoring Poe's invitation, and dashing behind a nearby shipping trolley where the little orange and white droid is about to connect to a power module that appears functioning. However, Rey knows (in a spine-tingling, bone-chilling, nails on chalkboard kind of way) that this outlet spells "impending doom" in flashing red letters.

The droid beeps at her, quizzical, continuing its actions until Rey grabs its shell and wheels it around.

"Stop!" she says with a gasp. "That conduit is faulty. You…" She steadies her breathing, slightly dizzy with the increased physical effort. "You could have been electrocuted!"

"What's going on?" Poe interjects from behind her, his countenance serious.

BB-8 makes the binary equivalent of "Oh dear" in a small voice and relays Rey's information to Dameron.

The pilot furrows his brow and examines the console carefully, jerking his hand away when it short circuits, sending mini blue sparks showering out and barely missing his fingertips.

"BB-8 could have been fried!" Poe exclaims, his lips pursing into a thin line as he scolds the droid. "What have I told you about leaping at power consoles before performing proper diagnostics?"

BB-8 coos an apology, its head bowing, but Poe pats it in reassurance as he kneels. The reprimand is the kind a protective parent would give to his child. Dameron often uses this tone with BB-8, and it's one of the traits that Rey finds most endearing about the pilot.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Poe says to the droid and stands up again. "Rey is really looking out for you."

He nods his head at her, gratitude shining from his eyes, and Rey clears her throat.

"Just felt something was wrong," she says, deferring to modesty. "I…"

But Dameron steps forward and touches her shoulder. Although the contact is brief, it leaves a warm mark that spreads from her shoulder down her arm and to the rest of her body. "Thank you."

Rey nods because she's not sure she can speak. She doesn't usually enjoy this kind of attention—in fact, it makes her extremely uncomfortable, however nice it is.

Poe must sense her insecurity, because he changes the subject smoothly. "So, how about dinner? Finn and me—tonight."

Rey can't help thinking that there was something else she was meant to do today that might get in the way of enjoying a meal with her friends, but it slips away again. Maybe it isn't that important after all.

"Yes," she says, "I'd love to."

"Great!" Poe says, giving her a thumbs-up. "Hey—can we take a spin in the _Falcon?"_

Rey has been swapping flying lessons with Poe when they have free time. She envies his maneuvers in Black One, and he'll act as gunner in airspeeders when they fly together. But she knows more about the _Millennium Falcon's_ navigation, and Poe seems to be in awe of her skills. Strange. She supposes it has something to do with the legend surrounding Han Solo and the _Falcon._ Dameron often talks about "stepping into history" when he boards the General's old ship.

Rey would like nothing more than to float away and find a good method to forget her headache via spending time with Poe in the _Falcon_ for a few hours, but she is committed to punctuality and her Jedi training. Although, not necessarily in that order.

"Sorry, I was supposed to meet Master Luke a half hour ago for—"

"Did you forget about your training?" The rough voice catches their attention immediately, and Master Luke is standing beside her. _That man is quieter than the breeze_ , she thinks.

"Master Luke, I…" She trails off, gaze flitting from Dameron to her mentor and back again. She's not sure how to begin admitting being late for her training because she "slept in." _Like I got loads of sleep to begin with._

"Sorry, Master Skywalker," Poe finishes for her smoothly. "Rey was helping me with some diagnostics for BB-8, and I must have detained her for too long."

Skywalker eyes both of them dubiously, cocking his head to one side, but then he nods. "Thank you, Commander. Come, Rey."

Rey murmurs something unintelligible to Poe and then dashes off before the pilot can view how pink her face is.

 _Add humiliation to the list for today…_

Skywalker is characteristically laconic as they shuffle past rows of X-wings and turn to the right, towards the landing field. Rey wonders if he could see through Dameron's half-truth.

 _He probably did. There isn't much that gets past the old Jedi._

Rey is too preoccupied thinking about whether or not Master Luke is upset with her that she doesn't notice when the Jedi stops abruptly, causing her to crash into him with a surprising energy. Solid as a rock, Skywalker doesn't move an inch, but Rey is thrown off balance, falling until surprisingly strong arms catch her.

Her vision spins, and Rey finds herself looking up at the slightly puzzled, mostly amused expression of Luke Skywalker.

"Did you see today's lesson?" he asks, not missing a beat.

She feels the grip of his metallic hand on her shoulder, and Rey instantly stands up, brushing herself off and trying to stymie the overwhelming embarrassment she is feeling.

 _This is just not my day._

"Yes," she says quietly, as if it is of little consequence.

"Very well," Luke says, his eyes looking upwards at the white puffs of clouds, thoughtful. "We shall begin the first task of the day…"

 _Not meditation. Not meditation. Not meditation._

"You have been working very hard these past few weeks," says Skywalker, "and I've noticed that your concentration has suffered. Therefore…"

 _Anything but meditation. Really. Anything but meditation._

"We shall begin with meditation."

Rey groans inwardly, but she assumes a bright and obedient smile. "But, Master Luke, I have so much _energy_ today. Do you think it might be possible to begin with something more active and save meditation for… later?"

 _Like later next month._

Luke examines her closely, and there is still a trace of delight in his eyes. It is very clear to Rey that he knows exactly what she is trying to get away with. And that makes his decision all the more astounding.

"Very well. Running. Forty kilometers before lunch."

Rey's heart rate immediately skyrockets. "Sir, lunch is three hours from now. I am not sure I can run—"

"Thirty kilometers then!" Luke says enthusiastically, clasping his flesh and blood hand with the metallic one. "Go on, Rey."

The Jakkunian's mouth is still open in surprise when she finds herself taking off through the woods of D'Qar, circling the base in an ever-widening circumference, and wondering how she is going to possibly have enough energy to get through the rest of the day.

TBC

 **A/N:** This is a little fic I started writing shortly after "Far Away From Nowhere," and it gradually faded away as the other one took over my life. Ha! But it's back now. This one's going to be fairly short—perhaps only one or two more chapters left. It will be heavy on the fluff with some light hurt/comfort thrown in. More lovely moments with Poe and some wonderful Finn sections as well. This fic satisfies my craving of wanting to tell a story that is focused on Rey exclusively, but one that also delves into her relationships with the other men in her life. This isn't a strictly romantic fic (more emphasis on friendship) but you can definitely read it that way if you like. I'd love to get some feedback on this, and I promise that I will pay you back with dozens of virtual cupcakes! *Hugs* to you all!

~Ista ^_^


	2. I've Got Sense to Hold In

**Let Yourself Be Carried**

 **Chapter 2: I've Got Sense to Hold In**

 **Warning:** Rey has a panic attack/anxiety in this one.

Rey runs until she imagines her legs invent a unique voice—whiny, trembling, and with a short attention span: _Let's just rest for a moment, shall we? How much farther? Oh—that shady spot looks nice. Isn't it time for lunch?_

But running is something Rey excels at once she gets in the rhythm. And, like a particularly pulsing song, when her feet find rhythm, it's a soothing constant that propels her forward, never stopping, in an endless loop.

Rey stops, heaving in gasps, sweat pouring down her brow. She bends over, sticky palms covering her knees. In that instant, she finds comfort in being surrounded by the green jungle—lush and vibrant and alive, so unlike the deserts of Jakku. Instead of an endless expanse of dust, D'Qar offers much more.

The foliage breathes with her, enticing Rey to continue. But her burning legs speak more urgently: Take a break.

So Rey takes small steps, thighs trembling, and feels quite pleased with herself, despite her still-throbbing head. She has avoided meditation, after all. Maybe this day isn't going to be as awful as it began.

 _Don't jinx it. You have at least six more hours to plummet into catastrophe._

But, first: Lunch!

The day is already heating up, bright sun finally burning off the oppressive rainclouds. Rey is wrapped in stuffy arms of moisture and heat until she pads lightly past the threshold of the forest and emerges into the sunny landing field. The cloying heat of the jungle promptly evaporates, and the wind blows a cool breeze across her face.

Rey allows herself a small smile of contentment as her breathing eases, and she watches Resistance workers scurrying like ants around the base from a distance. Their busyness reminds her of the twinge of her muscles and the ache of her head. She imagines the solitude of her quarters, dark and calm, like a cave or the abandoned imperial walker that had been her home for many years, and she longs to slip inside it again.

A brilliant idea comes to her: _Grab your food, go to your quarters. Eat on your way and SLEEP for your half hour off._

Just the thought of sinking into her pillow tastes sweet on Rey's tongue. This is possible. This is do-able.

 _Just be sneaky. You can do that, right?_

No problem.

 _Get some food on your plate and hurry back to your room without anyone seeing you._

Rey tries to ignore how much her stomach tenses up, gurgling like a strange aquatic creature at the sight of the food. She tries to ignore her own instinctive reaction to reach with her hands and touch _everything_ and shovel _all the food_ she can reach onto her tray in a giant piling heap, which is what she did on her very first visit to the mess hall. She remembers Finn's response to her outburst—somewhere between amusement and embarrassment. But rather than verbally reprimand her on her lack of etiquette, Finn steadily took Rey's hand and taught her the proper way to wait in line (patiently), to gather your cutlery and napkin and tray, to take only minimal to moderate amounts of each food item, and then _sit down_ to eat. The "sitting down" part had been key. Rey had already been snacking on her pile of comestibles while standing up.

As someone who is used to being perpetually hungry, this overabundance of victuals is a constant, inconceivable dream. Rey is astounded every time she sets foot in the mess because of this miracle. So it takes every ounce of self-control she possesses to calmly choose three items: a bowl of brown rice covered with a cup of thick vegetarian stew on top, and a piece of lavender-colored fruit. She shoves a spoon into the rice bowl and jams a brown napkin under her armpit, walking swiftly to the nearest exit when-

"Hey! Rey!"

The Jakkunian cringes, her stew nearly spilling over the top of its ceramic bowl. She feels cold all of a sudden—the warm sweat from her run chilling her body inside the air-conditioned mess. Rey looks at the EXIT sign longingly, but when she turns around, she sees the grin on Finn's face, and she knows she can't leave.

 _Guess my nap will just have to wait._

Finn is shining his brightest smile at her, that you-know-you-can't-resist-eating-lunch-with-me-when-I-smile smile. Rey is not immune to his endearing facial features, and she hopes she never will be.

Finn sits slumped over his food. Unlike Rey, he had an easier time adjusting to life in the Resistance. Turns out that the autonomy of the rebel group was the only thing he had to get used to. Autonomy equals free time. Rey remembers when Finn was really struggling with the extra hours he had for leisure activities at the end of each shift, not to mention an occasional day off from duties. He would become frustrated and irritable, bugging his superiors to give him extra shifts just so he would know what to do with himself.

And then Poe had sat him down with Rey during a mealtime and told Finn to list any activities he was interested in. It was difficult to get Finn to talk about himself as an individual, but with enough prying from his two closest friends, Finn eventually relented and began opening up, talking about hobbies and potential interests. Then they just came flooding out: reading, sketching, anything related to poetry, archery, flight simulators, engine mechanics…

 _Poetry?!_

Rey remembers being astounded at her friend's interests as Poe proceeded to create a schedule for Finn on graph paper, where each minute of each day had a specific function and activity assigned, even down to taking a shower and what time to go to sleep.

"Now, remember," Poe had said, "This is _your_ life. You have the ability to change some of these activities around if they don't work for you."

"No, this'll be fine," Finn had said and quickly folded the paper up, putting it in his pocket. And when Rey had visited Finn's quarters the next day, she found Poe's schedule tacked to the wall by his bed. Like a switch had been flicked, Finn settled into his new home. That was the starting point for Finn. Turns out he just needed order.

Rey, unlike her ex-stormtrooper friend, is used to having many hours of free time, mostly spent on her own survival. A plethora of unscheduled time is not her problem.

"I brought you something," she says, setting her bowl and piece of fruit down on the table before sliding onto the bench across from Finn at the mess table.

Rummaging through her bag of knick-knacks, Rey pulls out the ancient text, its dark brown cover weather-beaten, its pages curled and fragile. She breathes in its heady scent, sweet like pancakes, and full of the mysteries of the galaxy. Then Rey places it in Finn's hands.

He looks at the cover and his mouth gapes. Rey can't help but giggle with satisfaction. This is exactly the type of reaction she had anticipated.

"A collection of Holshef poems?!" he exclaims.

Rey nods, chewing on a spoonful of stew and nutty rice. "From Lothal."

Finn sputters words that are terribly (and adorably) out of order before taking a steadying breath and turning through the volume's pages, each one delicately fluttering. His eyes are wide, unbelieving.

"Rey...just...I can't," Finn stammers. "Thank you!"

Rey flushes with pleasure. "You're welcome."

"Where did you get this?" Finn asks when he has sufficiently composed himself. "This is an original."

Rey swallows a bite of fruit and preoccupies herself with scratching an imaginary itch along her arm. More people have entered the mess hall as the lunch hour picks up, and she is unused to being around so large a company. The atmosphere in the room immediately changes from quiet into rambunctious; Rey is overly sensitive of others' energies, and she finds that it increases her heart rate too.

"It belonged to my family," she says. "I have had it ever since I can remember."

Finn stops flipping through the pages and looks at her dead-on. "Then I can't accept this."

"What do you mean-?"

"If it's part of your family, it should stay with you."

"Oh," Rey says with a shrug, waving her hand. "I'm not much of a poetry fan."

Finn shoots her a dubious look.

"Besides," she continues, "it collected dust on my bookshelf for nineteen years. If I keep it, it'll collect dust for nineteen more."

Finn closes the book with reverence and holds it to his chest, pressing the old leather of the book's binding against the smooth leather of Poe's former jacket, a hopelessly charming gesture that only makes Rey love him more.

"Finn! Rey!"

Both glance upwards as Dameron swings by, tray in hand, BB-8 at his side. Rey snorts with laughter when she sees the bowl of food balancing on the droid's head. It coos a greeting then lets out an alarming little shriek as the container starts to slip away. Deftly, Rey reaches out and grabs the bowl before it topples over, placing it on the table. BB-8 beeps gratitude and Poe quietly claps as he sits beside Finn.

"Rey saves the day again," Poe says, not a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

She can feel her ears growing red at Dameron's remark, but Rey tries to brush the feeling aside and focus on her meal. However, it's growing increasingly difficult to focus on _anything_ as more and more Resistance workers pour through the doors of the mess. There must be over a hundred in the room now—talking, laughing, spoons clinking against bowls and boots clicking on the cement floor. As a Jedi, Master Luke has taught her to sift through these emotions when in large crowds, to block others' sentiments lest they overwhelm her own, but Rey is exhausted, and these wayward feelings from everyone else begin to creep into her mind.

"Did you see what Rey got me?" Finn asks, showing Poe the cover of the book.

Rey pretends to not notice the admiration in Dameron's eyes as he examines the tome with wonderment. "I forgot that you're a sucker for poetry, Finn." He sticks his tongue out teasingly at the ex-stormtrooper. Then: "Rey's been giving us so many presents today... I wonder what gift _she_ might like."

Finn quickly smacks Dameron on the arm.

"Ow!" Poe cries, and BB-8 chortles. Finn leans into the other man, whispering fiercely in his ear.

The external stimuli is getting to Rey. Regardless of what Poe and Finn are whispering to each other. She can do without their secrets because she chooses to block them. But the others voices from the crowd in the mess hall... the multitude... They are not so easy to block.

Like a wave, the thoughts and sensations pounce on her mind, relentless, a few hundred beating hearts clambering for her attention. To be the loudest, to be the strongest, to break through her defenses—

"Rey?"

It's Finn's voice—sharp, unlike him. Rey's name on his lips catches her attention, focuses her on the two men and one droid across from her. The immediate sight of them almost causes her to laugh because the look on their faces is identical: concern flashing like a warning light.

"Yeah?" she mumbles, all too aware of the breath catching in her chest, in the impression that the ceiling is dipping lower, shrinking inch by inch to skim the top of her head.

"Are you all right?" Finn asks, his eyes flashing worry.

 _Don't be sorry for me. Don't be sorry for me. Don't look at me._

"Of course," Rey mutters, throwing a smidgen of bravado into her voice and realizing it has the opposite effect. She feels the heat radiating off the hundreds of bodies in the mess, their whispers, their shouts—each one a needle jabbing in her eardrums. The noises sear her skin hotter than any sunburn.

Poe says, "You look pale." And, all of a sudden, he is grasping her arm. The soft warmth of his fingertips is the tactile equivalent of comfort. Dameron's touch, combined with Finn's piercing gaze, stymie the onslaught of emotions from the mess hall crowd, but they are not enough to eradicate them entirely.

"'m sorry," she manages to rasp. "Must...go."

"Rey—" Finn starts, but she is already standing up, abandoning her tray as the mess hall spins dizzily around her. Dameron is still gripping her arm, trying to steady her, and all Rey can think is: _Why is he doing that?_

Then she bumps into BB-8's solid little body and is apologizing as the droid beeps intermittently, a flurry of "Are you all rights?" and "Where are you goings?" in astromech.

The thoughts from the two hundred beings in the mess transform into a cacophony that churns her stomach. There is a rotten taste in her mouth, and Rey inhales ozone.

 _I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe._

Her lungs burn, fighting for air as she slips out of Poe's grasp, guilt heavy in her act of turning away, bowing her head, racing out of the cafeteria into the fresh air of the landing field.

But then the world stops because everything is so _quiet_ , and there are no voices seeping in through the crevices of her mind. Rey is in the open, and she can finally _breathe._

The air is sweet outside, perfumed by wildflowers. Rey is drenched in sunlight, and although she wants nothing more than to swallow her pride and go back to the mess, finish her lunch (her stomach is still growling), and apologize to her friends, she can't. In fact, Rey is so ashamed of her own allergy to crowds that her instincts tell her to _run away._ Besides, what if Finn and Dameron come after her? Rey imagines their worried shouts as the doors to the base fly open. And what then? She might be able to outrun them physically, but she is unable to run away from the conversation they will have with her the next time they see her.

The Jakkunian takes off at a sprint, calling this day (and her beloved lunch) a loss. The jungle beckons her, and there are many more trails to explore.

Rey is nearly to the forest's entrance when:

"More running?"

She stops so suddenly that she almost flies headfirst into the nearest tree trunk, but Rey manages a less-than-graceful pivot-turn and faces her mentor.

 _Like a child with her hand caught in the… Something or other…_

"Master Luke!" She tries to sound as cheerful as the sunny day, but it's difficult when she's panting from the exertion of her sprint and the remnants of "Worst Lunch Ever."

 _Can my day get any more mortifying?_

Master Luke is standing with his hands folded neatly in front of him. How he can manage to thoroughly examine her without ever taking his eyes from her own, Rey has yet to comprehend. But when he _looks_ into her eyes, he gleans more than he ever lets on.

"I thought you might have tired of running this morning," says Skywalker, voice gruff. He scratches his beard absent-mindedly (or so it seems). "But if you insist, I can assign you thirty more kilometers—"

"NO!" Rey bursts out then clears her throat. "Is there not a different task for me to complete today, Master Luke?"

His eyes glint mischievously, and Rey catches a glimpse of what he looked like as a younger man.

Her mind whirls. If Skywalker tells her to keep running, she doesn't know how long she will be able to hold out. Her legs are still sore from over-exertion, her muscles jumping as if ants are crawling inside the tissue. On the other hand, Rey _must_ choose an activity where she can be alone. She's not sure how she will fare even being around Master Luke for a short period of time. Her nerves are raw, her head still throbbing from when she crashed into the ceiling of the freezer.

"There is a briefing in ten minutes with Dameron's squadron on defensive maneuvers if you care to attend, or you may find Finn's workshop on stormtrooper survival techniques useful—"

"Meditation!" Rey blurts out before her mind has a chance to process the decision.

Luke quirks an eyebrow up at her.

"Meditation," he repeats.

"Yes..." Rey licks her lips. "That's exactly what I need."

Oh, the irony of the situation!

Skywalker pauses, his blue eyes never leaving hers for a minute. At last, mercifully, wonderfully, and surprisingly, he relents.

"Meditation it is," he says. "But remember, my Padawan, that meditation does not equal...a nap."

Beads of sweat seem to formulate out of thin air and trickle down her forehead.

 _He knows._ _  
_  
But Rey plays it off, chuckling lightly (it sounds more like a dying tauntaun) and wrings her hands. "Oh, Master Luke, don't worry about me!"

He takes a step closer to her, his brown cloak swirling along the grassy tips of the meadow. Is it just her own exhaustion tricking her mind, or can she hear Skywalker's voice in her head, faintly? _But I_ do _worry about you._

"One hour," Luke says.

Rey nods and turns back to the dense forest that awaits her, leaving Master Skywalker to watch her sprint away. She can feel his eyes on the back of her skull, and Rey doesn't become comfortable until she is about a mile deep into the jungle, surrounded by the hum of insects, chirp of birds, her boots sinking into the soft clay of the forest floor. Her head spins momentarily, and she leans against the trunk of a nearby tree to get her bearings.

 _This is what you wanted. Keep going. Locate your spot._

As Rey continues through the forest of D'Qar, she can't shake the feeling that someone is...watching her. Perhaps it's the leftover sensation from Skywalker's penetrating gaze. But, whatever it is, Rey stays on guard, pausing every so often to look behind. Nothing's ever there.

"I must be losing my mind," she says out loud, and calculates that it's entirely possible. Due to lack of sleep or lack of food or her near-concussion earlier.

Yet, Rey disregards the chills playing music along her spine when she halts abruptly.

Before her is a river.

Rey realizes that she has never taken this particular path before and therefore never encountered the massive brown snake of water coursing quickly at her feet. It is perhaps fifty feet wide and runs swiftly so that she cannot tell the depth of the water.

 _This is it_ , she thinks. _This is where I meditate._

Rey stoops low, cupping her hands into the running water on the river's shore and splashing her face. She shivers at the cool spray.

She lets the water drip from her nose before wiping her face with a palm and standing, feeling a bit cooler and more alert. Rey glances calmly from one corner of the forest to the other, still not shaking the sensation of being watched.

As she looks up at the dense canopy, she spies a ramshackle bridge made out of rope and boards connected to trees on opposite sides of the river.

 _A secret path_ , she thinks briefly. _Like something out of a fairy tale_.

 _Perhaps I'm meant to perform my meditation on the other side of the river..._

But as Rey examines the bridge more closely, she surmises that it must have been built many years ago. The rope is now frayed, barely hanging on in some places to the weather-beaten wood planks, many of which are splintered or missing altogether, showing large gaps in the passageway. Spray from the rapids beneath it causes the bridge to shift ominously, swaying to and fro. Rey swallows back queasiness in her stomach. A rickety bridge is a warning sign, not a provenance. It tells her quite clearly: _Stay where you are._

So Rey plods to a quiet corner of the jungle, pressing her back against the trunk of an ancient tree, and sinks down, sitting with her back straight, shoulders loose, legs folded inwards. She can feel the leaves from surrounding bushes tickle her arms and she can hear the roar of the river.

Rey closes her eyes.

Her meditation begins.

Rey struggles with meditation no matter how earnestly she pursues it. Countless times, Master Luke has chided her for letting her thoughts wander and stray.

"I know how difficult this can be," he has said, as if speaking from experience, "but you must surrender to the Force."

The point of meditation, Rey has been taught, is to lose oneself, and in doing so, find oneself in all living things.

Rey sighs, attempting to let go of her worries from the day, her many minor embarrassments, her panic in the mess hall. She tunes into the cadency of the jungle—from the feet of tiny insects to the swaying of the animals in the canopy above. She tries to listen to the heartbeat of the tree her back is pressed against.

Rey takes a deep breath and holds it. In that instant, her body hums. She can feel the energy of the Force flow through every limb, making every fine hair along her arms stand on end, her scalp tingling, her muscles tightening then relaxing. In that instant, she sees the energy (like a golden web, a shower of miniscule meteors) covering each living thing. Every blade of grass wears a halo, every tree, every flower a crown of honey. She hears its gentle music, a melody that is so quiet and beautiful, and yet so powerful, that it makes her eyes water with emotion. The note is eternal, a drone in unison. Rey tastes the coppery tang of the Force, like blood, like life itself, at once bitter and sweet on her tongue.

Rey slides deeper into meditation, a thought flitting through her mind:

 _Am I actually doing it?! And I'm not asleep!_

Another thought:

 _This is beautiful. This is peaceful. This is exactly what I needed. To be alone, undisturbed._

And that's when she hears the sound.

Rey's eyes flash open. In a snap that is almost audible, she is jarred out of her meditation. The golden light of the Force vanishes, its single note lingering in the air before disappearing.

She hears the sound of...footsteps. Clattering on wood.

And Rey realizes she is not alone.

TBC

 **A/N:** Yay! Another chapter! Thank you soooo much for all the positive feedback and support to continue this story! There should be 1-2 more chapters left. As always, let me know what you think.


	3. Tempted

**Let Yourself Be Carried**

 **Chapter 3: Tempted**

The bridge!

Rey looks up, and there is a young girl-Jamella Moekno-perhaps only six or seven years old, holding onto the thin wisps of the bridge's rope, attempting to cross it, the roaring rapids below. She giggles when she sees Rey is watching her.

 _How in the world did she get up there?_

 _She must have followed me._

Rey silently curses herself for not picking up the sounds of the child following her before this point and jumps to her feet.

 _You're too tired_ , she chides herself. _You're losing your senses if you didn't hear her by now. She's not the one training to be a Jedi!_ _  
_  
"Jamella!" Rey calls, cupping her hands around her mouth. She's unsure whether the child has heard her over the sound of the fast-moving river. "Come down!"

The little girl shouts, "Rey, catch me!"

Rey blanches when she fears that the girl is going to jump but then realizes that, instead, she wants to play. Jamella, fearless because of her age, swings the rickety bridge back and forth, causing it to sway drunkenly. Rey swallows, her fear almost controlling her actions. She forces herself to take a breath.

She screams, "The bridge isn't safe! Come down at once!"

Jamella swings onto the frayed ropes, giggling, twirling in a bright red coat. And Rey wishes she could control her mind, but children are nearly impossible to convince with the Force. Instead, Rey begins to climb the tree on her side of the river to get to the child.

"Just stay right where you are!" Rey yells. "I'll get you!"

Rey is halfway up the tree, grasping to find handholds suitable to hold her as she moves from branch to branch, when the unthinkable happens: One of the planks the child is standing on cracks in two. Jamella rapidly fumbles to grab hold of the remaining rope, but it frays and slips through her fingers. She shrieks as the board collapses from underneath her and she falls into the whirling water below.

"No!" screams Rey, her voice echoing through the jungle. Her heart is in her throat, fluttering wildly, as Rey jumps halfway down the tree, somersaulting into a lunge, and races to the riverbank. She doesn't even hesitate before diving into the swirling rapids.

There is, for a split second, a moment when Rey believes she will lose control, that the roaring slap of cold water in her ears, eyes, and nose will overwhelm her senses and pummel her deeper under water, into inky blackness. But then she remembers why she jumped in the river in the first place, and she knows she will not let Jamella succumb to that fate as well.

Rey kicks against the water pushing her down, and her head breaks the surface. Her lungs burn as she gulps in humid air, and she forces herself to THINK, THINK, SLOW DOWN.

 _Listen for the girl._

Shrieks, like a bird in a cage, burst above the river's pounding. A flash of a crimson coat.

"Jamella!" Rey splutters, swallowing river water in the process. She cuts through the choppy waves with her arms, plotting a course, using the current to her advantage to reach the struggling child. The river winds and loops in lazy Ss, sometimes slowing down deceptively, sometimes speeding up and dragging Rey back under to where she has to fight to break the surface again, her vision blurred and fragmented.

There is only the cold damp, the coursing, the rushing, the swirling vortex. Her eyes sting, her arms scramble for purchase, her legs kick to gain stability, and her throat works to cough up water as she chokes.

 _Let the Force guide you._

"Rey!"

The shriek pierces through her water-logged ears, and then Rey plunges back under, opening her eyes through the bubbles and spray to catch a flash of red further downstream.

 _There._

Rey surfaces to gasp air, her lungs ragged, and she uses her arms to propel forward, suppressing her fear until she remembers to let it guide her, channeling the strength and persistence of the Force.

The child is less than three feet away from her, and Rey stretches out her arms until her shoulders burn, threatening dislocation.

 _Jamella!_ she calls with her mind.

The youngling wriggles around, wide-eyed and mercifully alive. Rey can feel the roughness of the red coat on her fingertips when an unseen current suddenly pulls Jamella under the surface.

"NO!"

Rey immediately dives under the roiling water, her legs and arms moving robotically towards the bottom of the river. Luckily, she doesn't have to swim that far because she spots Jamella's body, floating motionlessly in front of her.

The Jedi in training grabs the child, fighting against lack of oxygen and fatigue. She longs to be motivated by love and compassion and all the peaceful platitudes that Skywalker rattles off to her on a daily basis. Instead, terror compels Rey to keep going, her legs kicking ferociously, her sights set on the streams of light filtering from above.

 _Please let her be alive please let her be alive please let her be alive please_

They break the surface with a gasp. Rey's arms ache with the effort of keeping both of their heads above water. The Jakkunian rattles her limp charge, water like tears streaming down her face, obscuring her sight.

"Jamella!"

And then—a high-pitched cough, a wheeze, and a wave of relief spreads through Rey's body. The girl's large brown eyes swivel up to meet hers.

"R-Rey?"

Her jaw clenches firmly. "Hold on."

Gripping the girl's arms tightly, Rey twirls sideways, cutting through choppier waves and riding cross currents that pull them naturally closer to the riverbank.

Heaving for air, Rey's heart flutters. The youngling's dread is nearly tangible, a frenetic dark cloud that surrounds her small and trembling form.

"It's all right," Rey murmurs, even though she knows Jamella can't hear her over the gushing water. "I won't let you go."

Her muscles are weakening, and exhaustion catches up with her. Even through the haze of weariness, Rey finds one more burst of energy to propel forward and push Jamella onto the sandy bank, safe from the pull of the river. Unfortunately, Rey does not have enough power to pull herself onto dry land before a surprise surge from the river sweeps her away, and like a potent drug, pulls her back under.

Rey hears Jamella screaming, crying, but she has no strength to respond or fight back as the water tosses her like a rag doll into a new section of the river. And, to the Jakkunian's horror, she now finds herself crushed between churning white-tipped waves and treacherous boulders that frame the river.

The Jedi in training is vaguely aware that this should terrify her, but in reality she sinks further into a state of dreamy apathy. The water that forces itself up her nose and down her throat becomes comforting rather than claustrophobic. The rushing of water in her ears is a pleasant drone rather than a death chant.

Even when the oppressive current causes her to collide with a boulder, her head cracking into it painfully, a seam of red appearing across her left side from one of its jagged edges, she barely moans with pain. Everything is dull, distant, and dream-like.

 _Just like memories of home._

It is ironic, Rey thinks, that she should meet her end in water rather than sand. These rapids are so unlike the dessert, after all.

 _Rapids!_ That _is the correct word for them… Where did I learn that?_

Rey's muddled brain struggles to remember. And then she recalls a moment when she had been working on BB-8's circuits and Poe had taught her the term. Because one day they would all have to go swimming and Rey had to know the correct terminology. The Jakkunian had thought at the time that she had only partly paid attention to Dameron's rambling on aquatic lexicon, but now she realizes she listened more than she thought.

"And where do you propose to take the desert-dweller on her first swim?" she had asked him teasingly. "An ocean?"

Poe fluttered his hands like a frantic bird. "Oh, no! Not the ocean! No, that wouldn't work. Best to start small. Maybe a lake."

 _Or a river._

She would chuckle at the irony if her lungs weren't already inundated by spray that stings her throat and threads through the wound in her side, tendrils of pain enticing her to _close your eyes close your eyes just for a minute—_

Rey barely hears sporadic bursts of sound, voices shouting, but she can't identify them. She feels weightless, floating upwards.

 _Just like flying._

And her eyes flash open.

 _Finn._

She is supposed to meet him after her session with Master Luke to complete more training on the airspeeder simulator. It's a brand new training method the ex-stormtrooper invented, one that Finn had hoped to get feedback on that afternoon. And then there was the promise of dinner afterward that Dameron had been so adamant that she attend.

 _I'm not ready to die._

Rey kicks, flounders weakly, kicks again, and finds a swift current to ride that will propel her back to shore. Her head spins, her arms burning as they bend and flex against the water, chopping through, legs kicking in sync with them.

"I'm… not… ready!" she sputters to herself, her teeth bared, and her focus expands and contracts, until all she can visualize is the shore.

"REY!"

"Not…ready," the Jakkunian gasps, and with a final spurt of strength, the water surrounding her suddenly falls away, held back by an invisible arm that she controls. Immediately, she sinks into the mud of the riverbed and hoists herself onto sandy grit of the shore. Rey collapses and the invisible dam is broken. Only the tips of her toes dip into the river as the water immediately fills in the giant gap Rey leaves behind and continues on its normal path.

She is overwhelmed by how _quiet_ it is. Gone is the roaring water. In its place is the sound of uncontrollable coughing and the thrumming of her own heart.

Rey manages to dispel excess water from her lungs along with (she suspects) most of what she ate for lunch. And suddenly someone is pounding her on the back, muttering something that sounds like "meditation indeed," but she can't hear very clearly, what with all of the choking and spluttering and learning how to breathe air again.

The Jedi in training supposes she shouldn't have been surprised when she squints into the light above her and sees Luke Skywalker, all crinkly eyes of concern juxtaposed with a relieved smile.

Rey is dazed, hunched over, but her alarm finally catch up to her. Her throat manages to form raspy words.

"Jamella?!"

She attempts to move her legs into a sitting position, but her knees are shaking too badly, and she simply falls back on her side in the sand. Luke reaches down his metal hand for support.

"She's fine," he assures her in a soothing tone, one that is unfamiliar to Rey.

She fleetingly thinks, _Who are you and where is my master?_

"I sensed what had happened when her mother told me she was missing," Luke continues. "We came immediately. Jamella's mother is taking her back to the base to be checked out. Are you all right?"

Rey waves her hand, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that she is still sprawled on the ground, unsure if she will be able to stand.

 _One step at a time._

"That bridge needs some work," Rey says thickly, not sure if she's making any sense, because her heart is having a difficult time _not_ hammering in her chest, and the muscles in her legs and arms keep twitching, as if they don't know they aren't trying to stay afloat any longer.

Skywalker seems to ignore her, glancing around them. "Jamella told us what happened. It was fortunate that you were here."

Rey scoffs, looking down at her torn and waterlogged clothes. Like a drowned nexu.

Luke's head tilts quizzically, eyes puzzled. "I didn't know you could swim."

"I can't."

A twinge of pain doubles her over, and Rey is reminded of the gash in her side, seeping red through her soaked robes.

"You're injured," comes Skywalker's gravely voice, but it's muted and tinny.

She feels a palm on her forehead, soothing, and her shivers melt away, but the ache in her side continues to radiate agony.

"I knew I was having a bad day," she slurs, rambling. The trees that surround them are wavering in a highly comical manner. "But it can't get any worse. Right?"

And then it does. Because Rey's senses desert her, darkness closing in, and she swoons. Instantly, Luke's surprisingly strong arms grasp her shoulders, scooping her up. Her eyelids flutter shut and Rey's head falls back on the shoulder of her mentor, settling into the rhythm of his quick pace. Branches and leaf fronds kiss her limbs and cheeks gently in his hurry. If Rey didn't know her mentor better, she would have assumed that he was scared.

Her face burns after a few silent moments pass, and Rey's wits return. Her eyelids flick open, and she sees Master Luke's care-worn face, head up, eyes completely focused on moving quickly through the jungle.

Rey takes a shallow breath because her side still burns like fire, but her mind clears even more. She wonders if Skywalker has noticed that she is awake. A part of her—the exhausted, the abandoned, the hurting part of her—is tempted to stay silent and let Luke carry her all the way back to the base, reveling in a delicious half-consciousness, the rocking motion of the jungle lulling her into passivity. But the other half—the stubborn, take charge, independent half—cannot give into this weakness- _will_ _not_ give in.

Because the day Rey lets herself give in is the day she admits she has to give up… something. She's not quite sure what that _thing_ is.

Rey is feisty, and Rey is awake. Thus, Rey will _not_ be tempted.

"Stop," she whispers.

Skywalker pauses, looks down, eyes flashing worry. And there's something different about him—he looks older, and he's out of breath. The thought that her mentor is over-exerting himself because she nearly got herself killed gives her an extra boost of energy.

Rey gingerly steps down from his arms, using his shoulder as a crutch until she is convinced her legs will hold her. She presses a palm to her left side and sighs shakily, because the wound has stopped bleeding.

Luke takes her arm, steering her forward. "You're going to the medbay."

But the apprentice holds her ground. "Go on and look after Jamella and her mother. I can find my own way back to the base."

Skywalker shoots her a dubious look, one bushy eyebrow arching. It's a look that Han Solo used to give her, one that screams: _All right, kid. I know you're a hotshot pilot, and I know you're Force-sensitive, but do you_ really _think you know what you're doing?_

Reluctantly, Master Luke releases her, nodding. There is a brief millisecond where he reaches out his flesh-and-blood hand, as if to say something else to her, but thinks better of it. Then Luke steps away, walking briskly through the forest. In a few seconds, he is gone, and Rey is alone again.

She leans against the rough bark of a tree trunk to rest once Skywalker is out of sight. Concentrating, Rey takes a few sips of air, gradually releasing the breaths to stem the dizziness that threatens to take over. And then she continues. The trek is slow-going. Her head and side throb painfully. But she has a commitment that she will not break, injured or no.

After what seems like hours (but is likely only ten minutes) Rey breaks through the dense growth of trees and into the landing field. It is late afternoon by now, and the dazzling light has been replaced by a brisk wind and dappled clouds which send sporadic bursts of sunshine to highlight patches of grass and ships and people as they scurry about, many working their last shift before supper.

Rey practices standing straight and walking with an overt sense of decorum, so as not to attract attention. Her clothes have mostly dried, but she still feels cold, and her body is damp with sweat from plodding through the forest. Rey presses a hand to her left side to add support as well as hide the stain of blood. Still lightheaded, she almost makes the mistake of walking straight through the hangar bay, where she most certainly would have run into a dozen colleagues, among them Poe Dameron. And she most definitely wants to avoid _that_ happening.

She chews on her lip and comes up with a plan.

Step 1: Get to the airspeeder simulator without encountering anyone.

Step 2: Finish the simulation and slink back to her quarters without encountering anyone.

Step 3: Take a quick shower and get the message to Poe somehow (perhaps send for BB-8?) that she's very sorry, but she can't make it to dinner tonight.

 _Three steps. You can do this._

Rey slinks past the hangar bay and enters the base through an alternate entrance. She panics when she thinks she hears the musical beeps of her favorite astromech and its human companion's laughter. Rey freezes and listens, her heart thudding in her chest. But after a while, the voices diminish, and the Jakkunian lets out a huff of air she didn't realize she had been holding.

 _So far, so good._

She picks a circuitous route to the simulator, choosing corridors that are usually unoccupied during the day. Rey tries not to think about how many times she has to pause, leaning against the wall for support, her side awash with pain. She is afraid that the gash has started bleeding again. But Rey perseveres, following the plan, focusing on reaching the simulator. Checking a hall clock, she sees that she is only running a few minutes late. This is ideal because it means that Finn will most likely already be inside the darkened simulator and will not be able to view Rey in full daylight.

The Jedi in training is about to declare Step 1 accomplished when she sees the red door to the simulator, marked AIRSPEEDER PROTOTYPE 1.3.

"Hey—Rey!"

She immediately freezes at the warm voice directly behind her.

"I was going to apologize for being late, but it looks like you are too. Did Skywalker lose track of time?"

Any other time, Rey would have found his voice, seasoned with humor, to be a soothing balm to any troubles or difficulties in her life. But not now. Not when Step 1 was going so well. Not when she is desperately trying to hide the fact that she's exhausted and banged up and _bleeding_ towards the end of one of the longest and worst days imaginable.

So Rey straightens ever so slightly and disguises her voice with faux-cheerfulness.

"Hi, Finn!"

TBC

 **A/N:** What do you think? One more chapter left.


	4. Just To Make An Ugly Scene

**Let Yourself Be Carried**

 **Chapter 4: Just To Make An Ugly Scene**

 **Warning:** Rey has another panic attack in this one.

Rey can feel the blood slide down her side, slick, arresting her breath. All said and done, she's ready to give in, call it quits on this wreck of a day. But she grits her teeth and leans forward in the darkness of the simulator as the fake night sky of some ice planet opens up before her, and she _wills_ herself to continue.

This is the same feeling she got when fighting Kylo Ren, faster than a shot of adrenaline straight to her heart. Rey keeps going because she can't say no to her own arrangements.

 _Stick with the plan. Follow through on the simulation. Limp back to your quarters. Sleep it off._

But even Rey is failing to comprehend how she is just going to "sleep off" this particular injury. Because there is blood. And there is an increasingly alarming portion of it saying farewell to her frame.

 _What was I on Jakku? I was a wraith. Here, I'm a warrior._

She gasps at the cry of adulation from Finn, and they switch roles. He was giving her the once-over like mad when she showed up late, but he seems to be forgetting her paleness, the shake in her voice, as she continues to navigate the simulated nocturnal terrain flawlessly. Besides, in the dark, he can only see the silhouette of her back if he were to turn around. She can smell the faint floral scent of his aftershave, almost hear his inhalations. Rey pushes a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear and tries to focus on the task at hand.

A red light in the distance, beyond a mountain range glowing silver with snow, can only be one thing—the light of a TIE fighter—but instead Rey sees the bright crimson of a young girl's jacket, plunging into the cold depths of a runaway river current.

All at once, Rey sees Skywalker's concerned eyes looking down at her, and she can hear his voice in her mind.

 _What was your lesson today?_

A choked scream escapes from her mouth, and she is suddenly looking down at her own body, as if viewing herself from a clandestine alcove. Warning sirens from the simulation screech in her ears, mixing with the blaster fire from the TIE fighter about to attack them, and her view screen is tumbling over and over, her control panel and seat violently vibrating. They are spinning now, out of control, plunging towards the frozen surface.

"—ALL RIGHT?!" comes a strained cry right in her ear.

Rey can't help it. She sees the scarlet coat, then the ruby of the blaster fire, and the vibrant colors mix with the viscous substance running down her side. Suddenly, she is very cold, shivering.

Despite the slanting picture on the view screen and the spinning of her own head, Rey manages to steady the facsimile airspeeder, but they are doomed. The TIE fighter is too close, and her screen dissolves into a mix of smoke, ash, and fire.

And although the simulation is clearly _over,_ Rey's shaking fingers keep trying to handle the controls, pushing buttons frantically even as Finn unbuckles her from the pilot seat, emitting a soothing string of syllables that mix and run into each other so she doesn't understand a word. All she is aware of is the panic in his eyes as he sees the dark stain spreading across her midsection. Rey tries to protest, but the sounds are stuck in her throat as Finn removes his jacket, drapes it over her shoulders, and swiftly extricates her from the pilot seat. She can feel the warmth radiating off his body as her hand slides reflexively around his neck.

"No…" she protests.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Finn says. Rey's eyes are closed, so she can't see his expression, but she can hear the anger in his voice.

They are moving quickly now. She can feel cold air whipping past her as Finn races down corridor after corridor. Her limbs feel like brittle sticks tied together, slipping from Finn's firm grasp at odd angles. And she feels a strange lightness in her frame, as if the thin fabric of her clothes is grasping at the ghost of a body to give it form.

"You're just like him," Finn mutters. "Just like Skywalker. Too stubborn for your own good."

Rey is ready for a rebuttal, but her tongue feels too thick to speak, and her eyes open only to flutter shut again.

"…you…stay…me!" she can hear Finn call, but his words echo as if from far away.

Rey floats into unconsciousness, dreaming of sparkling snowy mountains, the rushing of water, and red jackets.

* * *

The first thing she notices when she awakes is how _quiet_ everything is. Like the sound has been turned down just for her. Just so she can rest her eyes for a moment.

 _'Cause that's all you have been doing. Just taking a little break from consciousness, your responsibilities, the galaxy, etc._

There is a small exhalation on her left side.

"Rey! You're awake."

And because she just can't help it, and it hides her embarrassment, she quips: "Impressive statement of the obvious, Finn."

When her eyes waver open and focus on his face, there is no irritation in his countenance. Quite the opposite: his eyes are rather serene.

Because the secret's out between them. Finn has carried her, against her will, against her wishes. And he'll never be able to take that back.

"Amused, are you?" she huffs, wincing at the slight tug on her left side. When she scans the area, she notices a bandage underneath the white robe she's wearing.

Glancing back at Finn, his face is maddeningly unreadable, calm.

"When the doctors looked you over, they noticed that you have been pushing yourself too hard."

Rey tries to roll her eyes, but the movement causes her head to throb mercilessly. Sensing her discomfort, Finn brings a cup of water to her lips. She drains the container gratefully, wanting to ignore his words but unwilling to let them go.

"I couldn't just let that girl drown!"

Finn pushes her back, gently yet firmly. His eyes are steel.

"I'm not talking about what happened at the river. I'm talking about what's going on with _you_ and how you've been shutting me out, shutting Poe out. Not eating, not sleeping, training from dawn to dusk…"

Rey can tell Finn is holding back an enormous wave of frustration, and her face burns. All she can do is sit there and listen and take it. She wants to tell him _why_ she hasn't sought balance in her life, why she perseveres despite never-ending exhaustion, but Rey admits that _she_ doesn't even know why.

Finn's mini lecture cuts short as two familiar figures appear behind him. At once, Rey tries to sit up. Finn immediately reaches forward and positions her pillow so she can prop herself into a sitting position more comfortably. She grunts in gratitude and plasters a smile on her face that is part relief, part desperation.

"Jamella!" she intones.

The young girl hides shyly behind her mother as Finn steps away, watching the scene.

"We want to thank you… for what you did." Jamella's mother bites her lip, hiding back emotion, but her eyes are glassy and give her away. Suddenly, she reaches forward and squeezes Rey's hand. "Thank you for saving my little girl."

This is the _last_ thing Rey wants, but she nods, patting the woman on her arm. Then the mother nudges Jamella, and the youngling spills onto Rey's bed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Careful, careful!" her mother chides.

But Rey just chuckles, the reaction surprising herself, but she can't laugh for very long because her side starts aching again. Then Jamella releases her, placing a small object into Rey's right palm.

"A present," Jamella whispers into her ear. "Thank you."

The mother and daughter walk away, and Rey looks down at the unexpected gift—a small silver fish constructed out of paper. Its scales are iridescent in the harsh light of the infirmary and eerily hypnotic. Rey sets it on a bedpost, feeling another wave of weariness wash over her. She is stiff and sore, and she is terrified that her emotions will start showing unless she retreats back to her room.

"Help me up," she says to Finn gruffly.

 _Since when did Finn ever let you talk to him this way?_

"You don't think you're leaving the medbay n _ow_ , do you?" Finn asks, yet he takes her arm and gingerly maneuvers her into an upright position, swinging her legs over the side of the cot. "What are you possibly planning to accomplish with the rest of the day when you're injured?"

Rey peeks at him cheekily with one eye open. "Meditation?"

Finn sighs, exasperated, and that's when both of them notice the person standing by the door on their left. It's Dameron.

 _The day just keeps getting better,_ Rey thinks, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Poe," Finn says. "You okay?" There is genuine concern in his voice because of the posture of the usually cocky pilot; his shoulders are slumped, his back leaning against the wall as if he is a balloon that was recently deflated.

"Yeah," Dameron says, dazed. He stirs from his position along the wall and approaches the two of them. In spite of the grease stains covering his hands, he wipes his eyes frantically with a fist. "But I should really be asking Rey that."

Rey takes a nervous breath. "I'm fine, Poe. Calm down."

Dameron's eyelashes are wet when he brings his hand away from his face—he was always rubbish at hiding his emotions. Or perhaps, the Jakkunian thinks, it's because he doesn't _mind_ expressing them as much as Rey, and he was never trained to hide them like Finn. The Padawan finds herself dazzled and also mortified that she is seeing Poe so raw, so exposed like this.

Finn springs to his feet and puts a reassuring hand on the pilot's shoulder. "What is it? What happened?"

Poe tries to flash false bravado with a smile, but his face is too pale, his voice too shaky. "Oh, it's nothing. It's stupid, really. I just heard the guys in the hangar talking about some kind of accident—and then they said it was Rey… Th-that you collapsed in the simulator. Well, I ran over, and I couldn't find you or F-Finn, but I s-saw the blood."

Rey's heart sinks, and Finn bites his lip.

"Poe…"

Dameron takes a deep breath, averting his gaze by staring at the ceiling to collect himself. "There was… there was just a lot of blood. And I thought…"

Rey inadvertently kicks the pilot with her foot. "Hey!"

Poe jumps and looks down at her.

"It's going to take a lot more than a wrecked airspeeder simulation to kill me," she says.

Finn snickers at the comment, and that causes a slow smile to spread across Dameron's face. He takes a deep breath and nods.

"You're right," Poe says to Rey then turns to Finn. "And you owe me."

"What?!"

"I made that bet that you wouldn't last through the simulation."

Finn sighs. "So what's it gonna be?"

Dameron scratches his chin, feigning deep thought. "Hmm… How about some cake?"

Finn punches him gently in the stomach, causing Rey to laugh and hold her side, grimacing. Then she starts to stand up.

"Woah! Woah woah woah!" exclaims Dameron quickly, taking her arm. "You shouldn't be getting up now. Finn, tell Rey that she shouldn't be getting up now."

"I'm right in front of you," Rey deadpans with a glare.

"Poe's right," says Finn. "You really should stay in bed."

But Rey ignores both of them and shrugs off their grips, limping slowly, barefoot, out of the medbay. She can feel her movement pull on the side wound, and she grits her teeth, stifling a moan.

"Rey…" It's Finn, but she ignores him.

"Finn, stop her…"

"At least let us help…"

"I'm fine," Rey says, but the lie is so obvious in her voice that she almost backs it up with a fiercer comment. However, she is not acerbic by nature and can't bring herself to take out her resentment on them.

She almost makes it halfway down the corridor when an arc of vertigo causes her vision to tilt sickeningly, and she finds herself crashing to the floor.

"Rey!" Finn cries.

The Jakkunian is trying to swat her friends away even before they reach her, but suddenly the pain in her side is too intense, and she's too tired and discouraged and _fed up_ with this disaster of a day to care any longer. Tears stream down her face in warm salty rivulets, and she doesn't even have the strength to hide them.

The cement floor is frigid on her flesh, but soon strong hands are picking her up, setting her against something warm, and bracing her back.

"Rey…" It's Poe's voice, and she realizes that she is sitting against his chest. On any other day, this scenario would have caused her a great deal of alarm, but she is too numb too care. Her heartbeat hammers in her chest, like a runaway pod racer. Her breath fluctuates, air flowing rapidly in and out of her lungs.

"Breathe," says Finn, and he is holding her hand, trying to catch her attention. "Just breathe."

"Breathe," Poe repeats, and she finds herself settling against him, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest. He's humming a nameless tune, and Rey focuses on the trilling melody until the panic has left her.

Her head bows, dizzy, and Finn lifts her chin so that she can look at him.

 _He's 1% angry and 99% worried out of his mind._

"Sorry," Rey croaks.

A bitter chuckle resonates behind her, and she swivels her head towards Dameron.

"She's sorry," Poe says. " _We're_ the ones who should be sorry, Rey."

"For what?"

"For not realizing that something was wrong before now," says Finn. "That you were tearing yourself apart, and we could have helped."

"And for not making sure you took the day off and had a better day today," Poe continues.

Rey's head continues to throb, but she's sure it's not explaining her sudden confusion. "I don't understand. Is today special?"

Finn and Poe exchange a meaningful look.

The ex-stormtrooper finally says, "It's your birthday, genius."

Rey stops, begins to say something, stops again.

 _What?!_

Dameron says, "Remember when the medical droids took your vitals when you first arrived at the base? They calculated your birthday, and you told us. Well, it's today. You must have forgotten to mark it on your calendar. But we remembered."

"But I don't need a birthday," says Rey, completely at a loss.

"Too bad," says Finn with a tone of complete finality in his voice. "You're getting one."

"But—"

Poe shushes her again, and Finn squeezes her hand, leaning in close.

"You're gonna find them, by the way."

Rey holds her breath, and it feels like the entire base has gone silent. Her stomach feels like a frozen stone.

"Your parents," says Finn, his face serious, intense. "You're gonna find them, and _we're_ gonna help you. But you have to let us help, Rey. You can't do it all on your own. Don't you see? That's why I left the First Order, even though I didn't know it at the time. And that's why Poe survived the crash on Jakku, even though _he_ didn't know it at the time."

And all at once, Rey's perfectly constructed walls of denial and isolation crumble before her, and she is crying again, crying tears of relief, and release, and (oddly enough) joy.

As Poe and Finn comfort her, Rey realizes that this is a pivotal moment in her life. That to depend on these two men, the dearest friends she has ever had, is not to give in, not giving _up_ her power, or metaphorically giving up hope of finding her parents and the secret to her past—it's allowing herself to see how much she is already supported and loved. Rather than looking her entire life for a family, Rey abruptly realizes in one exquisite moment, that she already has one. And they aren't going to leave her anytime soon.

"We're in this together," Poe affirms.

Rey's tears eventually ebb, and her friends slowly help her get to her feet. They walk, together, arms interlocked, all the way to Finn's quarters. When Rey asks why they're going there, Finn mumbles something under his breath about a surprise.

Still, it doesn't sink in until she is settled into Finn's sofa (and the plushest cushions imaginable) what the surprise could be. Out of the shadows of the dim living room, Finn bares a gigantic platter which holds flickering candles adorning a—

"Cake?!" she exclaims.

Poe is beaming and plops onto the sofa beside her.

"Go on," Finn says, and sets the tray down.

The men chuckle when she blows out each candle quickly and individually, with short puffs of air, but they won't tell her why they're laughing. Rey can't wait to consume the sticky still-warm-from-the-oven confection. It's a perfect mess of chocolate sponge, vanilla icing, and red berries.

She thanks Finn each time she licks the frosting from her fingers, and then they are all settled back into the sofa with a sugary rush, Rey sandwiched between her friends. _Trauma of the Temptors_ is playing in front of them and Finn reads poetry in the green glow of the holovid.

In a matter of minutes, the day is taking its final toll on Rey, and she can't stop her eyes from drooping closed, no matter how much she fights it. And, really, she's tired of fighting it anyway. Besides, it almost feels _nice_ to rest her head on Poe's shoulder and release the tension she has been carrying around since landing on D'Qar.

After a while, she wakes from her light doze to whispers.

"Should get her to bed," Finn says. "She can take mine."

Dameron agrees. "Yeah, I got her."

Any lingering feeling of weakness and bitterness melts away like the taste of sweet vanilla on her tongue as Poe gently sweeps her into a solid yet gentle embrace. Rey is too tired to open her eyes, so she merely drifts off to the sensation of weightlessness and the light kiss of Dameron's warm breath on her cheeks.

 _This is where I belong_ , she thinks fleetingly before falling asleep. _I can tell Master Luke that I learned his lesson._

Rey smiles in her sleep and lets herself be carried.

~Fin~

 **A/N:** Pure fluff, my friends, pure fluff. Hope you enjoyed!


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